Marked For Death | klangst

Nineteen.

Keith could, without a doubt, say that he was red. Not just because he was the infamous Red Paladin, and therefore directly correlated to the Red Lion. No, it wasn't that. He was simply red, the color. Both passion and anger, love and fear, lust and envy.

Red, and the things needed for survival. Red, and the yearn for power. Red, and the threat to personal security.

Sitting with his head in his sweaty palms, Keith thought hard on the meaning. Both passion and anger were buried deep within him -- such a burning passion for the selfless boy he loved, and yet, such a boiling hot anger at himself for not being there. His love for Blue was immeasurable, but no matter how hard he tried to rid of the persistent nagging fear of losing him, it remained, unscathed and unaffected. He most certainly lusted for Lance -- coveted and craved for him -- in a way that was novel to him. But like everything else in the universe it which he lived and sought to protect, it came hand-in-hand with a less favorable aspect: jealousy and resentment. He couldn't particularly say that he resented the beautiful color of blue in all of its tranquility and intuitiveness and communication. He surely did not envy its dependability in a pinch, wisdom in times of ignorance, comfort when there is melancholy... Okay perhaps he did have a bit of a grudge.

Blue, and the ability to understand. Blue, and the faith in the faithless. Blue, and the mystics of fruition and self-achievement.

Keith stood, no longer able to cope with the despair he was free-falling into. Instead, he looked towards the peaceful form of Lance, his eyelids lightly covering his beautiful cerulean irises, the skin on his face regaining color little by little, becoming the tan Keith had fallen in love with.

Blue, and all of its tranquility.

It was all true. Lance was calm and placid, whilst he was spontaneity and rashness. He was reckless and heedless, foolhardy and hasty, careless and indiscreet.

"Dammit, Lance," he swore in frustration, hitting the pod with the brunt of his fist before breathing laboriously and resting his forehead against the cool glass. In through the nose, out through the mouth. But it wasn't working. His irritation was rising in his chest, his blood simmering and his veins bursting in ire. Before long, he could not contain his clandestine emotions he had tried so hard to conceal.

"Why did you have to go and pull this stunt? Why couldn't you have just stayed to the damn group and to the game plan?" Keith yelled at him, tugging at the roots of his slightly greasy hair. "All of this could have been avoided, you know. We could have left this fucked up planet and gone home. We could be laughing at one of your lame-ass jokes even though it wasn't funny at all. We could've been reminiscing and teasing each other about the stupid things we did in the past!" he ranted, hot angered tears unwillingly forming in the corners of his eyes. "And you know what else? You would've been perfectly okay! You wouldn't be fighting for your life in some alien container! And I wouldn't be here screaming at you -- stuff that you can't even fucking hear!"

By then, he was hysteric, his emotions erratic and his mind jumbled. "I wouldn't be here questioning my whole life and all of my decisions. I wouldn't be so confused and hurt. I wouldn't be trying to figure out why the hell I love you so damn much, and why my own body doesn't!" Lance remained unfazed, still silently sleeping.

Red, and the frustration within. Blue, and the calm in the eye of the gray storm.

Keith broke down and cried, falling to his knees in internal suffering, his heart aching for something unattainable and his mind yearning for answers that were unreachable. His choked sobs echoed in the enclosed room, the steel walls resonating with sadness and copious amounts of pain.

Suddenly, there was a moderately loud sound from outside of the infirmary doors. With a start, Keith jumped to his feet apprehensively, wiping the tears from his cheeks. He retrieved his bayard from his belt and willed it into a sword, raising it to eye level cautiously. He began walking slowly to the door, his steps deliberate and practically inaudible. Moments later, the same sound met his ears. As Keith was about to discover the source of the sound his way, the doors slid open, revealing a frazzled looking Hunk.